


The Score

by cactusnell



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactusnell/pseuds/cactusnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly decides to put Sherlock on a scoring system.  Will he settle for anything short of perfection?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Score

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson burst from the cab in front of St. Bart’s hospital with varying degrees of enthusiasm, the detective eager to perform an experiment on some tissue cultures which may, or may not, be of importance to one of his cases, the doctor merely wanting to get the day over with and go home to his wife and infant daughter. They made their way quickly to the pathology lab, there to be greeted by Dr. Molly Hooper, who was on her way out.

“Molly, I need to see those tissue samples…”

“No you don’t, Sherlock. You may want to see them, but you surely don’t need to. At least not until tomorrow morning, when I return to work.”

“Molly…”

“NO! It’s an old case file, there is no danger to anyone, or anything, aside from my social life. You can just be patient, and wait until tomorrow.” Molly stole a glance at John, who appeared to be relieved. Maybe he could make it home to his family at a decent hour after all? Dr. Watson found himself admiring this new Molly more and more. The one who was capable of standing up to the one and only Sherlock Holmes.

“Molly, please,” Sherlock said cajolingly.

“Won’t work! I’m meeting friends for dinner. See you tomorrow.” Molly pulled her bag over her shoulder and waved goodbye to John, but as she passed close to the tall detective, she did something totally unexpected by reaching up to grab his collar with her free hand, pull him down to her level, or almost her level, stand on tiptoe, and deliver a perfectly placed kiss on his rather surprised lips. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but the effect lasted quite a bit longer. Molly was smiling as she made her way to the exit, almost gone, before the detective finally spoke.

“Why did you do that, Dr. Hooper?”

“Curiosity, Mr. Holmes.”

“And?”

“I’d give it a 6.7 on a scale of 10. You might have done better if you’d reacted just a bit though!”

The door swung shut behind her, as she left with a distinct giggle.

“Don’t let the low score get to you, mate. Not exactly your area, is it?”, John said, chuckling all the while.

“Go home to your family, John. There’s nothing more we can do here!” Sherlock dismissed his friend without a second thought, as he slipped into his mind palace to contemplate what had just happened. While he certainly hadn’t anticipated such a precipitous action on the part of his trusted pathologist, he also did not expect, nor accept, such a low score. Something had to be done!

A few days later, on a Sunday afternoon, Molly was having a cuppa with Mary, and the ever adorable baby Claire, when Sherlock came through the front door of the Watson’s flat, neither knocking, nor ringing, nor waiting to be granted entrance. John, who had been working on his blog, looked up from his laptop to greet his friend, but noticed that the man had not approached him, but was, rather, staring down at one Molly Hooper, who was sitting comfortably on his couch, sipping tea, almost studiously ignoring him.

“Sherlock, can I do something for you? We weren’t really expecting you today. How about a cup of tea?” Mary was looking curiously at the man in the Belstaff, who was continuing to stare at Molly.

“John, you know I am a perfectionist. I think my previous score was dismally low, don’t you?”

“I’m no judge, mate. I wasn’t on the receiving end, after all!” John spoke with not a small bit of relief. But, after all the rumors about Sherlock’s sexuality, or lack thereof, he felt compelled to add, “Nor did I want to be!”

“For god’s sake, John, I am not offering to engage in mouth to mouth osculation with you simply to give you a basis for comparison. I do not find you all that attractive.” He then glanced at Mary Watson, who was barely containing her laughter. John had informed her of the unexpected occurrence in the path lab, and Mary had fully expected the detective’s over developed ego to demand some sort of rematch. The fact that it seemed about to take place in her sitting room was an added bonus.

“Well, Molly, are you willing to give me a retest?”

“I suppose…” the poor woman had barely gotten the words out of her mouth, when that mouth was closed abruptly by two rather demanding lips. She felt long fingers work themselves into her hair, and was just beginning to lose herself in the sensation when the infuriating man pulled away with a decided smirk.

“Well?”

“An improvement, no doubt. I’d give it an 8.2. No, maybe an 8.3.”

The detective looked at her with some disbelief. “Are you hiding some German ancestry, or perhaps Russian, Dr. Hooper. Those countries are noted for their rather inappropriately low scores, you know!”

“Sherlock, really, that score is nothing to be ashamed of! I’ve kissed men who I would rate as low as 5.5, after all. 8.3 is completely respectable…”

“If you consider 5.5 acceptable, then 8.3 must be an excellent result, Molly…”

“It is, really, Sherlock. Not the best I’ve had, but certainly nothing to sneer at!”

Sherlock’s eyes widened, he turned on his heel, and left the same way he had come in, leaving his friends in shocked silence. Until that silence was broken by Mary Watson’s gales of laughter.

“Dear god, Molly, that was nicely played! You didn’t flinch at all!”

“Really? ‘Cause I thought my shoes were going to melt, or something,” Molly spoke, trying to catch her breath while fanning herself with one hand.

“If I know Sherlock Holmes, it’s not going to end there. He’ll be back for another retest, and another…”

John was beginning to see what was going on here, and was torn between loyalty to his best friend, and his great desire to see him taken down a peg. And perhaps to finally see him happy with something, or someone, other than his bloody work!

Sherlock had the cab driver let him out a good distance from his Baker Street flat. Perhaps a walk would clear his head. He had known about Molly Hooper’s infatuation for ages now, sometimes using it to his advantage. He had even come to accept the fact that those feelings were not entirely unreciprocated. And he had always assumed that, if and when he ever did deign to take that step which would alter their relationship from friendship to romance, she would quickly turn into a bowl of jelly, and fall quivering into his arms. 6.7? Balderdash! 8.3? On what scale was she grading? He would certainly make sure that he was fully prepared for their next encounter! And the sooner the better, as he was beginning to feel a little, um, anxious, shall we say.

Molly had spent a lovely afternoon with the Watsons, and their little girl, but now she sat in her flat, dressed as she usually did in a tank top and gym shorts, ready for bed. She had tried to distract herself by watching crap telly, but her mind kept reverting to the feel of Sherlock’s lips on hers, and his fingers working their way into her long hair. This could be a dangerous game she was playing, relying on his ego, his need for positive reinforcement, to entice him into giving her what she had always wanted. Because she could not remember a time when she hadn’t wanted the world’s only insulting defective. And if she had to trick him into this, and settle for a one-off night of passion to soothe his damaged ego, so be it. If that was all she could get, she would settle for it. It may break her heart, but it had been broken by the infuriating man on previous occasions, and she had managed to recover. She would recover from that too, she hoped.  
So, it must be said, that Molly was not really surprised when Sherlock Holmes showed up at her door late that evening, looking almost as frustrated as she felt.

“Sherlock, it’s awfully late…”

“I am well aware of the time, Dr. Hooper. But I feel that I must, once again, object to your scoring system.”

“Sherlock, you must know that scoring something like this is very subjective, open to various interpretations of quality…”

“Why should it be, Molly? Surely, the basics are quantifiable…”

“Sherlock, why are you taking this so poorly? Surely you must admit that this is not your area? You’ve often said…”

“I know what I’ve said, Molly, but I have always prided myself on being a quick study, able to educate myself, to perform to my utmost potential. And I am convinced that I have a lot of potential in this area, so…”

The tall man with the beautiful eyes now used those eyes to their fullest effect, stilling the petite woman with a rather smouldering look. He approached slowly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. One hand moved upward to work itself into her hair, and cup the back of her head, gently bringing her face closer to his own. And when he moved his own face closer, he buried it in her neck, trailing kisses from her clavicle to her ears, and back again. It wasn’t until he heard her faint moan that he, finally, brought his lips down to meet hers. And, to his great satisfaction, he now felt her grow limp as that bowl of jelly he had been expecting all along, before falling quivering into his arms.

“Well, Dr. Hooper?”

Molly sounded a bit breathless as she replied in a husky whisper, “9.6, definitely!”

“A significant upgrade, to be sure. But still room for improvement. What would you suggest we do?”

“Practice?”, Molly managed to squeak a reply, as she felt his hand move inside her tank top, then play with the waistband of her shorts.

“Excellent idea, Molly! Perhaps we could do so in a more comfortable, um, horizontal, environment? This may take some time, after all.” But the pathologist couldn’t really answer, as her lips were currently occupied, and she was being steadily guided backward toward the bedroom door.  
It was rather late the next morning when John texted Sherlock between rounds at St. Barts.

MOLLY CALLED OUT TODAY AND I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO REACH HER - JOHN

MOLLY IS PERFECTLY FINE - SHERLOCK

HOW DO YOU KNOW? - JOHN

SHE IS SIMPLY EXHAUSTED. ON A RELATED NOTE, I HAVE WORKED MY WAY UP TO A 9.9 - SHERLOCK

9.9?- JOHN

YES, JOHN. MOLLY AND I BELIEVE THERE IS ALWAYS ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT. IT MAY TAKE YEARS TO ACHIEVE PERFECTION, BUT WE ARE MORE THAN WILLING TO TRY - SHERLOCK

John Watson shoved his mobile back into the pocket of his trousers. He had thought for a moment to call his wife, but decided that he really wanted to see her face when he broke the news.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my insignificant blog at HooperandHolmes.wordpress.com


End file.
